politicos to do their damage." He smiled wryly. "You've got to think like frat boys crossed with Navy seals."
The men laughed.
Before Ron left, their hard eyes had begun to glow with hero worship and they'd made plans. Labane opened his briefcase and took out a small, brightly wrapped parcel.
"For start-up expenses," he said quietly, handing it to John. "Happy birthday."
The he smiled and got up. Without another glance he walked out into the night.
Ron could feel their eyes following him, like plants following the sun, and he nearly laughed. Having acolytes was a heady experience; he'd have to watch himself or he'd be swallowed up by his own ego.
SARAH CONNOR'S ESTANCIA, PARAGUAY: THE PRESENT
Sarah hung up the phone, frowning. Then she headed down the hall toward her son's room. "John," she called.
"Mom."
"Something's up."
"Something's up," John echoed.
"It's about…"
"It's about…"
"Dieter," they said together.
They blinked at each other. John had been about to rush into the hall looking for her and she'd almost bumped into him.
"He wants to come over," Sarah said. "I put him off until later tonight."
"Check this out," John said grimly, jerking a thumb toward his computer, flicking his head to get the lock of black hair out of his eyes.
Sarah sat in his chair and read the message on the screen.
"Perry," it said, using her code name. "Been away. Von Rossbach reputed to be a covert operative for multi-government task force. Be careful, he's good."
"Shhhhit!" she snapped, smacking her fist on the table. "Shit!" She got up and paced the small room, one hand pulling at her hair, the other on her hip.
"Do we go?" John asked.
Sarah closed her eyes as if in pain, her face bleak. Was it necessary? Would it only make things worse—heating up the cold trail that, up until now, no one had been able to pick up? She hissed and took a few more distracted paces across the room.
I don't want to, she thought, not for the first time. I don't want this! She'd made a life for herself here. A lonely life, but a real one. And a life for her son, a life that included friends and prospects. He was sixteen. How could she ask him to follow her again? And how can I not?
He wasn't just her son; he might still be the last best hope for humanity's future.
Because one truth the hard years had taught her was that the thing that tripped you up was the contingency you hadn't planned for. And no matter how calm the Last few years had been, deep down inside she was still waiting for disaster.
But was this it?
She thought with regret of the something she had sensed growing between herself and the big Austrian, something powerful and good, reaching through the fear and suspicion. Something she hadn't felt since Kyle came into her life. She'd held herself back from it as if it were fire and she were paper, but she couldn't deny it completely.
Was it real on his part? Or had he known about her all along and merely been manipulating her until he could confirm her identity?
Well—Victor certainly supplied that, she thought bitterly. She'd been hoping against hope that Griego's great revelation had fallen on deaf ears. She couldn't afford to be so open, so vulnerable! W hen did I turn into such a gullible fool?
She blew out her breath in disgust. So, tonight he was coming over. Would he be alone? If he wasn't, then there was probably somebody watching the house already. So running wouldn't be easy. At least until they could pinpoint the sentry, if there was one. It would be better to wait for nightfall anyway. By then Dieter would be here and maybe she could use him as a hostage. And afterward?
Could she dispose of him, since he threatened her son?
Dispose of him, she thought with a wry twist to her mouth. Dispose of him. I
sound like a Terminator.
She turned to John. "No," she said at last, "Let's wait and see what he has to say.
We might be anticipating trouble we're not going to have."
John tipped his head, his eyes uncertain. But she could see that he didn't want to go either. To once again enter that harsh world of running and hiding and trying to set up unobtrusively somewhere marginally safe. He was sixteen and he already knew too well the definition of adventure.
Someone else in deep shit, far, far away.
CYBERDYNE CONFERENCE ROOM: THE PRESENT
Serena sat quietly in the meeting Paul Warren had called with his department heads. He wanted to be "brought up to speed" after his weeks away. Behind her mild, attentive face she was conversing with her Terminator. It had landed in Asuncion and been met by Cassetti.
"There will be a delay," the Terminator reported. "Cassetti says the rental car won't be available until three o'clock."
"As long as you accomplish your mission and catch your flight back to the U.S.,"
she said. "If you aren't going to be able to complete your mission in time to make the flight, inform me and I'll make other arrangements."
"Affirmative," it replied tersely.
"Since you'll be stuck in Asuncion for a few hours, go interrogate Victor Griego.
Find out what Cassetti told him about me, then terminate him. You can probably stock up on weaponry at his office as well, which should simplify things for you."
"Affirmative."
"Also find out if Cassetti has spoken to anyone else about this case. If he has, terminate them."
"Affirmative."
"Contact me when you have something new to report."
"Affirmative. Out."
And she was left alone in her head to attend the meeting. Not that it would require her full attention. All of the material being covered here was more efficiently available as written reports, which she had already read. As far as the 1-950 was concerned there was no real need for this meeting. He must want to demonstrate to his underlings that he's not a broken man, but is still capable of running the company. Though how anyone could be broken by the death of a woman like Mary Warren was beyond her programming.
But humans had their forms to observe, and they imposed penalties on those who refused to acknowledge them. Serena looked across the table at the company president. He certainly looked thin and drawn in his black suit and tie. Was it grief or had Mary left all her money to her favorite charity, handing him nothing but debts? I suspect that's just the sort of thing she'd do. If she were human Serena sensed that she would feel sorry for the poor man.
Mentally she withdrew from the meeting again. This evening she was meeting Jordan Dyson at the airport with his company car. A conservative, but very serviceable Excel; she imagined he'd be pleased. They'd have a business dinner to discuss his work for Cyberdyne. Then she'd take him to his new apartment, where she'd parked her own car. She'd present him with a map and directions to get him to work and then she'd leave him to his own devices.
I hope this will be a very useful working relationship, she thought. After all, they had a shared obsession. Even if, with a reasonably probable outcome, her T-101
was about to… terminate… the object of it.
AEROPUERTO SILVIO PETTIROSSI, PARAGUAY: THE PRESENT
"I require access to Victor Griego," the Terminator said. "You will take me to him."
Marco looked at the towering, black-clad man out of the corner of his eye. He wished the man would take off the sunglasses. The totally expressionless face was hard enough to take without being able to see his eyes. And Marco really wanted to see his eyes. Because what he could see of the stranger's face looked exactly like Dieter von Rossbach.